


Dream Girl

by jmajerus



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-14 15:42:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16495556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmajerus/pseuds/jmajerus
Summary: Senator Rhysand Night starts having dreams of meeting a woman that seem to be more than dreams.





	1. Chapter 1

The first thing he became aware of was the butter yellow florescent lights that buzzed overhead, casting an almost sickly glow to the entire place.  The second thing he noticed was the cracked and peeling linoleum that appeared to be so old the design of it had faded into oblivion.  It drew his eyes to the aging booths that stood along the dust frosted windows, their vinyl seats more patches than actual vinyl anymore.  The aroma of stale coffee and grease drew his eyes to the other side where a diner counter sat.  The stools were just as patched as the booths and the laminate countertop was worn down to the absolute bones of itself. 

It was here that his feet moved him, sat him in a chair directly in the center of the counter though he had never been here and had no recollection of arriving.  It certainly wasn’t a diner he would have frequented at any point in his life, of that he was certain.

“What’s your poison?”  A voice that called to his very being drew his attention up behind the counter where a waitress had appeared.  His golden brown hair was braided back but a few strands had escaped to frame her sharp cheekbones and pointed chin.  Her grayish blue eyes were guarded and stood over heavy bags that someone that looked so young shouldn’t have had.  Even her very ugly brown waitress uniform and apron showed where she should have had curves and fat, but all that was there was a half starved scrawny body.  But despite all of that, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever been Cauldron Blessed to lay eyes on.

“What’s your name, Darling?”  He was happy to hear it come out as smooth as he planned, rather than the desperate begging he felt like doing.  Mother above, who was this woman?

“I don’t see how that will help you order,” she said flatly.  “What’s your poison?”  She drawled again.

“Coffee, black,” he said the first thing that came to mind despite the fact he actually didn’t like his coffee black at all.  Usually he had a dry cappuccino with just a little sugar to take away some of the bitter taste of espresso, but he doubted they would have that in a place like this, and he was very certain the waitress would just laugh at him.  But he was happy to watch her as she fished out a chipped mug from under the aging counter and poured strong smelling coffee into it for him.

“So what brings you to this dump?  Don’t you have some fancy chain café to doodle little designs in your coffee?”  She shot at him, wit and sarcasm dripping from her voice.

“Sadly, they all are closed at the moment,” he told her.  “So you’re just stuck with me.”  She simply rolled her eyes in response.

The barbed comments and questions kept being traded as he drank cup after cup of that horrid and bitter coffee, as she watched him hide his cringe through each sip with a knowing smirk.  He stayed there chatting with the beautiful waitress until the harsh sunlight of dawn started to make the inside of the diner glow through the dirt covered windows, revealing the cracked pavement and crumbling brick buildings beyond.

“I think you’re supposed to go now,” she told him when his gaze came back to her.

“But I never got your name, Darling,” he told her, leaning just a bit across the counter. 

Her lips curled into a smirk.  “I know.”

The incessant ringing of his phone made the image of the beautiful waitress dissolve into his nightstand and the too bright window beyond it.  With a groan, Rhysand Night, Senator of Prythian, dragged himself from his bed.  It had been a dream.  That beautiful waitress and her diner had been a dream.  And yet, his breath smelled of that horrible coffee as if he had spent all night drinking it at her counter.  His phone began ringing again.

“What?”  He snapped into the receiver when he saw the name on the screen.

“Good morning to you too, Sunshine,” came the response.  Cassian.  The man had pretty much been his brother alongside another, Azriel, since they had been preteens.  They, and his second cousin, Morrigan, were his only remaining family.

“What?”  He snapped again.  He was not in a mood to deal with Cassian’s bullshit.

“Figured I’d ask if you were coming into the office today,” came the response with a shrug.  “Or did I get up for nothing today?”

Rhys groaned.  Right, it wasn’t a weekend.  He was supposed to be getting up and going to the capitol building to meet with the other Senators.  They had things to discuss, bills to look at, arguments to have.  He had things to do and now he was late if Cassian was already complaining about having gotten up for nothing.

With a sigh he rolled out of bed and set about getting ready.  The beautiful waitress stayed on his mind as he showered, shaved, and dressed.  Did it matter he hadn’t gotten her name?  He wasn’t sure.  It was a dream, right?  But she stayed on his mind as they got into the car and stopped to pick up breakfast at the local café he frequented. 

“Your usual, Senator?”  The barista asked upon seeing him.

“Actually, a large coffee, black,” he told her, unsure of what was possessing him to do so.  But a smirk that flashed in his mind’s eye told him somehow it was to impress the dream waitress that certainly didn’t exist.  Even as Cassian stared at him while he drank.

By the end of his work day, he was convinced he should just name the dream waitress himself.  It was his dream after all.  But no name seemed to fit the woman and even then something seemed strange about it being just a dream.  Shouldn’t he have fantasized about some beautiful super model fawning over him rather than some sarcastic, worn young woman that saw one too many bad days?  Why was she the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on?  And yet, even as his mind created the image of her, he was still certain that she was.

And when he went to sleep that night and found himself standing in that run down diner once more, Rhys found himself with one mission only.  Get the waitress’ name.

“You again,” came the snort from behind the counter.  Rhys smirked in her direction.

“I never got your name, Darling,” he told her as he sat down.  “Coffee, black.”

But he woke up the next morning without learning her name once more.  It nearly drove him insane as he tried, in vain, to try to name her himself. 

Every night he dreamed of her.  That same diner.  The same ugly uniform.  The same horrible coffee.  Every night he dreamed of sitting at that counter and she seemed to remember him too, from every night he spent with her.  Every night he went in with the goal of trying to get her name and every morning he woke without knowing it.

Slowly their talk turned from snappy remarks and comebacks to delving a little deeper.  He told her about himself.  Not about his career which most people assumed was all there was to him, but about his family.  He told her about his brothers and Mor.  He told her about his mother and little sister dying when he had been twenty from an angry man storming the capitol building and shooting into his father’s office where they had been visiting.  He told her about his father dying in a car accident only a couple years later and his suspicions that it hadn’t entirely been an accident.  He told her about his abusive ex-girlfriend that had nearly driven him to the point of suicide to escape her. 

In turn she told him about herself.  Her mother had died of cancer when she had been eight.  Her father had died of alcoholism only six years after that.  She and her two older sisters had stayed together for two years until her father’s debts had caught up to them.  Her sisters, both older, had left then.  Planning to outrun the debtors, thinking the debt collectors would leave a sixteen year old alone, they had abandoned her.  Nesta and Elain, she gave their names over easily but never her own. 

The debt collectors hadn’t left her alone and soon she had dropped out of high school to work full time as a waitress, the only job she had been able to get.  So she worked long hours to pay off her father’s debts though she had dreams of one day being able to afford paints and paper to paint on and maybe have some time to pursue her interest in art.  It was such a simple hope that had Rhys waking the morning after hearing it wanting to find some way to get her the supplies she needed, but it was impossible.

The more he met with his dream waitress, the more the scars of the bad of his life healed over and the more he wanted to find this waitress and do the same for her.  But he couldn’t help her.  He didn’t even know her name.

“Rhys, brother, you got a moment?”  Cassian’s voice drew him from his thoughts at his desk. 

“Sure, what can I do for you?”  He asked.  His brother never asked for anything, even after accepting the crappy full time job of making sure Rhys was safe. 

“So I’ve been seeing this girl,” Cassian started as he took a seat.  At that, he had Rhys’ undivided attention.  Cassian never spoke about any of the girl’s he was seeing.  In fact, he normally only saw them for a couple of dates before they broke it off.  “I really like her and I want the family to meet her.  So I was hoping you’d be willing to host a small, casual dinner at your house?”

“Why not your apartment?”  Rhys asked.  “You didn’t tell her you lived with me, did you?”

“No.  She’s been to my apartment.  But it’s a little cramped to have everyone and she wanted to invite her sister to come as well.  She hardly leaves her younger sister to go to work.”  He sighed.  “And I was hoping that maybe I could introduce her sister to Az.”

“What?  No sister for me?”  Rhys teased.

“You have no problem finding women.  Az is too much of a recluse to find a girl for himself,” Cassian scoffed.  “So please?”

“Fine.  I’ll host.  When?”  Rhys reached for his calendar.

“Tonight?”  Cassian asked sheepishly, shifting in his chair ever so slightly.

“You’ve already invited the others, haven’t you?”  Rhys couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face.  “Fine.”

“Good, Mor is bringing the wine and Az the scotch,” Cassian clapped his hands together.  “And I told Nuala and Cerridwen about it last week so they are well prepared.”

“Last week?  And you didn’t think to talk to me until today?”  Rhys demanded.

“You’ve been a bit preoccupied, brother,” he sighed.  “Are you ever going to introduce us to your girl?”

“Do I ever go anywhere that makes you think I’m taking a girl out?”  Rhys demanded.  While he was sure his brother would understand he wasn’t completely insane if he told Cassian the truth, he doubted Cassian be able to fully comprehend the dream girl.

“No, unless you are endangering yourself and sneaking out,” Cassian frowned at him.

“I’m not sneaking out,” Rhys rolled his eyes.

“Fine, but I know that look you get.  If you’re internet dating to avoid going out, be careful.”  Cassian sighed.

The night dressed in a comfortable sweater and jeans he stood at the door alongside Mor and Azriel to meet Cassian’s girlfriend and sister as he pulled into the driveway.  Cassian cleared the steps into his townhouse first followed by a woman that made Rhys’ heart race.  She looked… just like his waitress, but sharper, colder.  Her gray blue eyes were the exact same shade.  Her golden brown hair had the exact shine.  The same sharp cheek bones and pointed chin.  The same except for the utter coldness that seemed to fill her entire being.  His waitress was guarded, but not cold.  And if that woman was ice, the one that came behind was all light.  Her golden brown hair, also the same shade, but her features were softer and her big doe eyes a soft brown. 

“My girlfriend Nesta and her sister Elain,” Cassian introduced.  “And this is my family.”  He started listing off everyone but Rhys wasn’t listening much. 

It couldn’t be a coincidence.  They looked like her and they had the same names as she claimed her sisters had.  How many people were named Nesta?  How many sisters had the names Nesta and Elain?  How many looked just like her?

“Do you have another sister?”  Rhys blurted out.  “A few years younger perhaps?”

Nesta’s cold eyes narrowed on him and Elain whipped around from where she had been speaking to Azriel and Mor.  Cassian’s eyes went wide.

“Excuse me?”  She growled.

“I’ve seen someone that looked a lot like you before, but I never caught her name,” Rhys tried to sound casual.

“Listen, if you saw her as a stripper or whore on the side of the road then leave it alone,” Nesta snapped.

“Nesta,” Elain admonished.  “Our younger sister has made some poor choices in life and we cut ties with her long ago.  We are sorry if she offended you somehow.” 

“What’s your sister’s name?”  Rhys asked once more.

“It doesn’t matter,” Nesta snapped.  “Now let’s get this dinner over with.”

The rest of dinner was tense.  Nesta sat at the head of the table as if presiding over a court while Rhys found himself wishing for the ability to rip into her mind to get the answers.  They had a sister, one they didn’t speak to.  What was her name?  Where was she?  It had to be his waitress.  It had to be.

He tried once more before they left after dinner and dessert but one cold look from Nesta and a confused look from Cassian had him stopping short as Cassian steered the witch and her sister out. 

“Feyre.”  His brother, Azriel, spoke at his side while he swirled scotch in a tumbler.

“Excuse me?”  Rhys turned to look at his brother.

“Her name is Feyre and Elain last knew she was somewhere in the Slip.”  Azriel met his eyes, a silent question there while Rhys cursed out loud.  He should have known.

The Slip was the nickname of an over industrialized piece of land at the bottom of Prythian.  It was the place many of the production businesses liked to stash their factories.  The air was polluted, the water poisoned, the entire place was in shambles.  For the people living there, life was bleak and most died of preventable causes.  Rhys had tried again and again to make his fellow senators look that way when enacting changes, but too many of them were lining their pockets with money from those corporations.  And now that was where his waitress, his Feyre, was.

The name itself settled something deep in his bones and tugged at his very being the way her voice had.  She was real.  She existed.  And she was in the Slip.

“What does it matter to you, Rhys?”  Azriel asked.  “Who is she to you?”

“Not tonight,” Rhys managed to reply.  “Ask me tomorrow.”  He was too busy to explain now.  Too busy calculating just how long it would take him to drive to the Slip.  It was almost ten at night and it would take him nearly four hours to get there, but they had always met at night in his dreams.  Perhaps she worked at night.  And there was the little matter of him not knowing where she was exactly.  He didn’t know the name of the diner or where in the Slip it was, but he would sort that out when he got there.

“Rhys?  Where are you going?”  Azriel demanded and Rhys realized he already had his keys in hand and was halfway out the door.

“To chase a dream,” he called back.

He didn’t play music in his car as he sped down the freeway.  He let his mind keep him company, replaying every night they had met together in his head.  He stopped only twice.  Once for coffee (black) to keep him going, and once at a 24 hour store to buy whatever art supplies they had on hand.  If he was going to meet his dream waitress, his Feyre, he wouldn’t show up empty handed.

Then when the air was thick with the smog of the Slip, Rhys asked his GPS to locate all 24 hour diners in a fifty mile radius.  It wasn’t a surprise there were quite a few.  The factories ran nonstop so workers likely filtered in and out at all odd hours.  So he selected the first one on the list and started there.

It was dawn when he recognized the cracked pavement and the crumbling brick buildings of the street he drove on.  Dawn when he saw the diner that he just knew she was inside of after checking sixteen others.  Dawn when he parked his far too expensive car in front of the diner, drawing the attention from people on the street and from the haggard men sitting at the booths that looked out the dirt stained windows.  Dawn as he entered the diner with his gift bag of art supplies in hand. 

And there she was.  Standing at the counter, her golden brown hair in its limp braid down her back, her gray blue eyes weary and worn from a long shift, from a lifetime of long shifts, her ugly brown waitress dress hanging on her body showing where she needed weight.  Every detail the dreams had showed him was an absolute perfect rendering of the woman in front of him.  She turned her eyes towards him after a moment and something sparked in them like recognition and shock.

Rhys offered her one of his trademark smiles and held up the bag.  “There you are, Darling.  I’ve been looking for you.”


	2. Chapter 2

Rhys woke with a groan and reached over to the other side of the bed and found it cold as had happened countless times in the past, but over the last six months it had become unusual enough that he sat up and looked around trying to locate his wife.  But Feyre’s side of the bed was neatly made as if she hadn’t even slept there.  And now that he thought of it, had she even come to bed?

He rolled out of the bed and padded through the dark house looking for the one room where the light was on.  On the third floor, looking out over the courtyard garden, was Feyre’s home art studio.  One of the two studios he had gifted to her as a wedding gift.  The other studio stood on the banks of the Sidra looking out over the water.  She used that studio to teach any underprivileged children Velaris had to offer three days a week.  Two more days a week she went back to the Slip to teach painting in an afterschool program that Rhys had started in her name.

He pressed the door open just a bit further to watch Feyre in her element.  She wore one of his old t-shirts, now completely stained with acrylic paint, and a pair of leggings while she stopped to assess the canvas she was working on.  Her long golden brown hair was twisted up in a knot and skewered with a long handled paint brush.  Rhys had no doubts that she had paint likely in her hair, smudging her face, and on her hands and arms.  It was a sign she was invested in whatever she had decided to paint. 

 _There you are, Darling.  I’ve been looking for you._   The words flitted through his mind once again, as they did often.  The words that had changed the course of his life as far as he was concerned.  If anyone were to argue that his life was no different because to all outward appearances it wasn’t, the words had certainly changed the course of Feyre’s life.

She had been skeptical of him at first despite that spark of recognition he had witnessed in her eyes.  She didn’t truly know where she had seen him before but even now she still pondered on how she could have known him so well, how he had known her so well before they had truly met.  She would have blamed her sisters, he knew since he had met them first, but Nesta and Elain knew little about her in reality.  They hadn’t known her desire to draw and paint had gone beyond a hobby.  They hadn’t even known where she was working.  So she couldn’t say that he had some sort of connection with her before truly meeting her.  And she viewed any attempts of him telling that he met her in a dream, in many dreams, as teasing and only teasing.  But there had been and still was no denying their chemistry.  Even his own family thought Feyre and Rhys had to have been crafted to be with each other, as silly as it sounded.

They had only dated for a couple of weeks before he had moved her away from the Slip into his house, less so from being eager and more because she had developed a bad cough that wasn’t uncommon with the smog polluting the air.  On top of treatment at Dawn Hospital, if she truly wanted to avoid the cough returning she had to limit her time in the Slip until the air quality improved.

Moving her into his house had caused their courtship to go far faster and kept their relationship from the media until he had turned up to a speech with a wedding band on his finger only six months after meeting Feyre.  His family had at least been able to attend when they had married on a whim one night.  Feyre hadn’t wanted to spend the money on a big wedding nor had she cared for one.  She wasn’t interested in planning any sort of wedding either.  So Rhys had called his family and a judge to his house and they had married in the sitting room, and that had been enough for him and certainly more than enough for Feyre.

“Feyre, you need to sleep,” Rhys reminded her when she stepped back from her painting once more.  She turned one pointed ear towards him and he saw a smirk light her face at being caught.

“I just wanted to finish this one up but it’s proving to be difficult,” she informed him.

He waited until he was sure she wasn’t about to start painting again and walked up behind her, bracketing her hips with his hands to look over her shoulder at the painting of the night sky.  As his eyes wandered over the starscape, he let his hands wander over her hips, across her stomach, and down her thighs just to touch her. 

When Feyre had first let him hold her, he had been struck by how small she truly was.  How so many missed meals had worn on her body making her unhealthily thin.  It had taken several months of convincing to get her to eat more than the bare minimum as she had trained herself to live on.  She could eat until she was full now and Rhys had made sure she never felt guilty for how much she piled on her plate.  Now her body was filled out to a healthy degree and he enjoyed the supple flesh beneath his hands and against his body.

“Don’t you have a bill to present in the morning?”  She asked, turning in his arms to press her body against his.

“Yes,” he bent to press his lips to her brow. 

He had spent a good amount of his political career over the past year working on a bill to help clean up the Slip.  He used the notes on Feyre’s very preventable medical conditions and the statistics from the clinics in the Slip to explain the need for improving the air and water quality and improve worker conditions.  Since he had married Feyre, he had taken to shamelessly presenting her to his fellow senators, letting her tell her story without prompting from him to win them over to the cause.  With her help, he was certain the bill would pass and beyond that, several corporate tycoons were reported to have started charities in the Slip to help with some of the glaring poverty.  He blamed all of the success on her charming personality.

“Then you should get to bed,” she peered up into his face and he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his lips.  “I don’t want to hear that you fell asleep while presenting your big bill.”

“Only when I have you with me,” he pulled her in closer.  “You know how I hate sleeping without you.”

He did hate sleeping without her.  After they had met, she no longer visited his dreams.  It had led to some very long nights where he hadn’t been able to stay asleep for long.  It had only remedied when they had started sharing a bed.

“I honestly thought I’d be finished with this tonight,” she sighed, setting her paint brush in the water cup.  “But it doesn’t seem to be cooperating.”

“Maybe some sleep will make things easier in the morning,” Rhys promised her.  He kissed the top of her head and smiled at the painting. 

To be perfectly honest, when he had first seen her work, he had been blown away.  For someone that hadn’t had much access to supplies or time to practice, Feyre had been exceptionally talented.  He almost offered to send her to art school but he doubted she would actually learn much.  So instead, he supported her as much as he could with the exception of having to stop her for food and for sleep.

At least she seemed to agree with him that it was time for bed and happily followed him out of her art studio and down to the bedroom where he promptly stripped her naked and deposited her in the bed.  She smiled up at him and he couldn’t help but want to kiss her senseless.

As he finally settled down next to her, wrapped as much around her as he could get, Rhys smiled and felt his whole body relax.  The bill would pass tomorrow.  Life would improve for the people in the Slip, not quickly, but it would happen.  And he and his dream girl would spend the nights for the rest of their lives entangled just as they were now with her already slipping into sleep and him not too far behind.  Before he fell completely asleep, Rhys thanked the Cauldron, the Mother, and the stars above that he had been given the opportunity to find his Feyre as he had done every night since meeting her and would continue to do so until the day he perished from this world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the second and final installment of this story. Thank you for the support. Please leave comments (they make my day) and you're welcome to suggest prompts to me!

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Everyone, there is a fiction on this site I believe is called Dreams of Darling that somewhat inspired this where Feyre dreams of Rhys and paints it all out. It's a good read if you can find it! I'd love some comments (they make my day to read) and always feel free to make prompt suggestions for me. 
> 
> I may add a follow up chapter to this but just one.


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